


Burning Bridges

by nerakrose



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: BFFs, Gen, Humour, Light crack, also super subtle almost not there background phil/clint, also there is pizza, assassin bros!, clint is secretly tony in disguise, not really but he doesn't shut up, unimpressed phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:05:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerakrose/pseuds/nerakrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you think about working for SHIELD?" Clint asked conversationally, all the while firing a netting arrow at Natasha Romanoff. "You could be my secretary. Polish my arrows."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Bridges

**Author's Note:**

> The end note only exists because I couldn't let it be part of the fic but it does sum up my feelings accurately. I wrote this because I wanted to write Clint/Natasha brofeels and then I frowned at the document and then mrs_jack_turner said to me "Only you could turn totally serious 'I'm supposed to kill you, but want to save you' into crack." So. This is what it is and I just want to remind everyone that this was written by the person who put Nekkid!Steve into a transparent pink scarf. With gold discs lining the edges.

"What do you think about working for SHIELD?" Clint asked conversationally, all the while firing a netting arrow at Natasha Romanoff. "You could be my secretary. Polish my arrows."

He was joking and she knew it, he could see it in the hard lines of her face, which had gone just that bit softer. Also, he wasn't dead yet and Clint _had_ done his best to give her all the sexist shit he could possibly think of.

Natasha rolled away expertly, fired a shot at the ceiling and suddenly Clint felt the rafter he was sitting on give way. He jumped, a little too late, and came crashing down to the floor. His bow went flying, so he pulled a gun from his belt. Clint wasn't a cat, but he did have a weird talent for landing on his feet, but this time he was up against the world's best assassin, and Natasha swept his footing away with a swift kick.

"Give me _one_ good reason why I should shack up with SHIELD," Natasha said calmly, pointing a gun at his head. The other was pointing at his crotch.

Clint's gun was pointed at Natasha but he was, well. Outgunned. Bummer. Nothing he couldn't get out of, though. "Dental."

"That's your winning argument? _Dental_?" Natasha didn't move a muscle, but Clint could read her, clear as day. Genuine bafflement.

Phil thought it was creepy when he read people, but it was easy, if you knew where to look.

"Dental," Clint confirmed. "Also, all female agents are required to wear killer heels and pencil skirts and blouses that show off their tits and yours look very promising, trust me, I have an eye for that sort of thing." He paused, ransacking his brain, then concluded, "I'm running out of misogyny."

Clint's gun was pointed right at Natasha's heart. They were locked in, he on the floor, she standing over him. He knew he would get her first. He just didn't want to.

"Could you, maybe, point the other gun at my head, too? No, no the other head. Thank you," he said as Natasha first pointed both guns at his dick and then moved them up to his head. "Cool, we're all set now. So, what do you think? Dental? Oh, and pension. It sort of sucks, I think because they don't expect anyone to live past forty, work hazard, you know the drill. But dental's good, just last year I got almost all my teeth knocked out by an evil shit and SHIELD fixed it, see, colgate smile. For free."

"SHIELD won't pay me what I want," Natasha then said.

"No, probably not."

"You were sent to kill me, were you not?"

"Yup," Clint said.

"Then why haven't you?"

"For the same reason you haven't killed me yet, I hope?" Clint raised an eyebrow. "Look, I'm getting tired of this pointing guns thing. I miss my bow and you made me drop it, and also I'm hungry so I think we should eat, continue this discussion later."

Natasha laughed. Not the face splitting, loud kind of laugh that most people do when they're amused - she'd only smiled, but he could see the laughter in her eyes. "You're not seriously asking me out?"

"I would never," Clint said, affronted. Natasha narrowed her eyes at him.

"You're paying."

"Oh man," Clint grumbled, but he put the safety on his gun and pocketed it, trusting Natasha to not shoot him right away. "Fine. I thought you were a feminist!"

"I am," she said archly, slowly lowering her guns. "I'm just not above taking advantage of my being female."

"Bitch." Clint scrambled to his feet and picked up his bow, sliding it into the holster on his back. He then went about retrieving the salvageable arrows.

"That'll be the last time you ever call me bitch," Natasha said, finally putting her guns away.

"I lied about the SHIELD uniform, by the way," Clint said, offering her his arm as they started walking towards the exit. "No killers heels. Unless you ask, and then they come with _concealed blades_. I once spent a week in killer heels but I had to give up because they killed my feet. I don't get how women can wear those on a daily basis. Goodbye badass blades."

"You're a sniper."

"Yes!"

"Why would you even _need_ concealed blades in your footwear?" Natasha asked and the bafflement was back.

"You don't _understand_ ," he said. "They were _badass_." His eye caught sight of his comm, lying abandoned on the floor near the door. "Oh hey, hang on." He picked it up and tapped it experimentally. "Oh heck. Phil, hey Phil. I don't know if this is coming through? Anyway, I have a new secretary, very qualified, brilliant resume. Can we get killer heels for her? With extra deadly blades? Just write it down. I'll be back at the safehouse at the appointed time, until then I have a dinner date. Everything's cool. I am not an impersonator, which, really, that would be so cool, but sadly, I'm me. See you later, darling." Clint grinned at the comm. "He'll kill me for this." He smashed it against the floor and crushed it under his foot. "So, dinner?"

"Do you have a deathwish? Just out of curiosity."

"Not more than most days, which is to say - not really. By the way, and I feel the need to clear this up, all that crap I gave you before -"

"- was just to wind me up, yes. I know."

"Also -"

"Shut up or I'll walk away, dental or no dental."

"Phil's going to love you. You'll love him. Oh man, I am so dead." Clint narrowed his eyes at her. "You are extremely deadly at poker, right?"

Natasha only raised an eyebrow, as if to say _do you even need to ask_.

"Just promise me that when you take my paycheck that you feed me every now and then because the canteen staff serve me the crappiest food ever and Phil says it's my own fault for screwing them over in poker all the time, and there was that one time I played a prank on them, but anyway. Point is, feed me, or Phil will not be happy and I will not be happy and you will wish you never joined SHIELD."

"Remember that time I told you to shut up?"

"I just gave away my next paycheck!"

Natasha rounded on him, her eyes blazing. "I don't know what you're playing at, Whatever Your Name Is, but I don't trust you and if I smell anything fishy, I'm out and you're lucky if I leave you alive."

"If it's any consolation, I don't trust you either. But here we are, and there's a pizza place just down the street. You get to choose the hotel, just don't pick the one where Phil is because that man has an uncanny Hawkeye sense and he _will_ find me." Clint leered, lowering his voice and wiggling his eyebrows. "And the name is Barton. Clint Barton."

She stared at him for a long time, but eventually the hardness in her eyes softened. "Shaken, not stirred?"

"I'll just have a cold beer if that's all right with you."

*

They never made it to the safehouse Clint had mentioned because the man with the Hawkeye sense burst into their hotel room, gun drawn, and with a gaggle of agents behind him. It was kind of adorable, really.

"This is not what it looks like," Clint said, slowly raising his hands. He had a half eaten slice of pizza in one hand and a cold beer in the other. He was also sitting crosslegged on the bed, Natasha opposite him, equally as crosslegged, the pizza between them.

"Tell me, Barton, what does it look like?" Phil asked. His jaw was set and Natasha could tell he was furious.

"It may look like we're having a dangerous liaison, but really we are sharing a pizza," Clint said. "Phil, come in and close the door. Don't bring the kids, sorry mum and dad need to talk!" Clint yelled the last part, looking past Phil.

"Barton." Phil's voice had a dangerous tone to it. He had not lowered his gun, which was rather pointedly pointed at Natasha.

"Seriously, close the door and tell the kids to go home." Clint gesticulated with the beer bottle. "This is the adult room."

Clint and Phil had a staring contest and then Phil nodded, ever so slightly, and the other agents melted away. Phil closed the door. "Explain," he said.

"Put the gun down," Clint said. "We're unarmed." He pointed at the chair by the telephone, which was loaded with an assortment of weapons. "Except for Natasha, who thinks I don't know that she's got a knife concealed on her body. By the way, I know you've got a knife concealed on your body," he said to Natasha.

Phil looked like he wanted nothing more than to put a bullet into Clint's skull.

"Natasha wants to join SHIELD," Clint then said.

Okay, that was maybe a bit awkward. Phil closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, slowly. "Why?" he asked.

"Dental," Natasha said and then suddenly she and Clint were laughing, Clint dropped the slice of pizza he was eating and clutched his stomach, while Natasha's body went backwards, hair flowing.

"Barton," Phil said, "did you tell her the colgate smile story?"

Clint only nodded, wheezing from laughter.

"That story is a _lie_ ," Phil said. This only made Clint laugh harder.

"Phil," Natasha said, calm again.

"Miss Romanoff," Phil said. "I'm Agent Coulson." He glared at Clint, then looked back at Natasha. "Talk."

"Come sit with us," Clint said, shuffling over. "Shoes off. Don't touch that slice, I think Natasha poisoned it. She refuses to touch it, anyway."

"I didn't poison it, you did!" She blurted.

"I don't poison things, I thought we went over that one?" Clint crossed his arms. "I didn't poison anything. I just boobytrapped your shoes. Boom."

"Already disabled that boobytrap." Natasha crossed her arms. "I didn't poison the pizza."

"Cool." Clint picked up his half-eaten slice.

Phil cleared his throat. "Am I going to get an explanation or not?"

"Honestly, do you need one?" Clint asked. "Natasha's badass and she's already promised to teach me that wicked move she did earlier, the one with her thighs."

"Miss Romanoff?"

Natasha straightened up. She calmly reached behind her back and withdrew a knife, putting it down on the bed. She then reached under her right thigh and withdrew yet another knife. "You missed this one," she said to Clint.

"No, that one I knew about. It was the other one I missed." He whistled. "I'm impressed."

"Do you want me to write a motivated application letter?" Natasha asked.

"I need just one reason," Phil said.

"Maybe it's time I did something good in this world," Natasha said.

"I thought that was obvious," Clint said. "Phil, honestly."

"I also wanted to meet you," she said, and now Phil and Clint both were stumped. "You're the man who saved Clint."

"Not in that many words," Phil said and Clint said, "Yes."

"I need no saving," Natasha said. "I'm saving myself."

"Oh come on," Clint interjected. "I so had you!"

"We were evenly matched."

"I had you!"

"You were on the _floor_."

"Natasha is my new BFF," Clint said to Phil. "It was love at first sight. Well, not really. More like love at fifth shot. I didn't, by the way. Get shot."

"Barton, when we get home, we are going to have a very serious talk about protocol."

" _Phil_ ," Clint said. "When we get home, we are going to have a very serious talk about you using my last name all the time."

"Miss Romanoff." Phil turned to Natasha. "You and I are going to have a long talk tomorrow before I decide whether to bring you in or take you in. For now, I suggest -"

"Pizza," Clint said. "Come on, Phil. _Sit down_. We were sharing makeup tips before you came in."

Phil got a pained look on his face. "Heaven save me."

**Author's Note:**

> THE FUCKING END gosh clint shut up


End file.
